


12 Days of Whalers

by Troodon



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Family, Gen, Making Up Christmas-adjacent Holidays For Fun & Profit, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/pseuds/Troodon
Summary: Daud doesn't do Midwinter's. But it seems his men do.He is too old for this oxshit.





	12 Days of Whalers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reina_randwulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reina_randwulf/gifts).



> Belated secret Santa gift for Reina!

“Is there anything planned for Midwinter’s?”

Daud glanced up from his paperwork to Thomas. “No. Oddly enough, Midwinter's seems to put people in a forgiving mood,” he observed, dryly. “After, of course, it picks up again.”

There was an odd look on Thomas’ face. “Right. Of course.” He bowed and vanished.

Daud shook his head and went back to his reports.

  
  


_ On the first day of Midwinter my Whalers gave to me/a bone charm in a pine tree _

Daud followed the call of the bone charm through Rudshore, puzzled. He'd thought he'd cleared the place out when they first moved in, but the hissing song proved him wrong.

He rounded the corner and was confronted with a massive pine tree.

“Mikhail, if you fall and break your neck, I’m going to laugh.”

One of his elite team of assassins was currently perched precariously on the upper branches, trying to put a bone charm on the top of the tree. There were three others gathered around the bottom of the tree, heckling the climbing Whaler endlessly. Mikhail flipped them off with one hand and wobbled. He caught himself, affixed the charm to the top of the tree. He transversed down.

“Fuck you, I did it!” he yelled.

The Whalers were peering at the top of the tree. “I think it’s crooked.”

Daud eyed the massive tree. “How in the Void did you get it here?”

The Whalers jumped. “Master Daud!”

Daud raised an eyebrow. “It’s four meters tall. How did you get it around the barricade?”

“Uh,” Mikhail looked at the others. “We used one of the boats. Took it down the river.”

Daud nodded. “And the checkpoints?”

“We transversed.” There was an awkward shuffling amongst the assembled assassins.

Daud nodded. “Good job. Don’t do it again.” He turned on his heel, ignoring the excited whispering behind him.

His Whalers were idiots, but sometimes they did manage to surprise him.

  
  
  


_ Two runes a-humming _

Daud looked down at his desk. He looked back up at Thomas. “I appreciate the gesture, but…” He looked back down at the elaborately wrapped runes. There was  _ glitter. _

“The men found them and thought you could use them,” Thomas said, completely straight-faced.

It  _was_ a well-done wrapping job. And he could always use more runes.

Fine. Just... Tell them this is unnecessary," he grumbled, picking up the runes.

Thomas hid a smile.

  
  
  


_ Three buildings burning _

Daud stared at the conflagration. He turned his glare onto the two Whalers standing sheepishly behind him.

_ “How?” _ he demanded.

The two Whalers pointed at each other.

Daud pinched the bridge of his nose. “Krust duty. Three months.  _ Each. _ Dismissed.”

The Whalers vanished.

  
  
  


_ Four wolfhounds seeking _

Daud glared at the wolfhounds piled on the bed. He turned that look on Elias. The Whaler held up his hands.

“I swear, I have no idea how they got in here.”

Daud glared. He didn’t use his bed often, his sleep was restless and often filled with unpleasant dreams. And now his bed was covered in hair and drool.

“Get. Them. Out.”

The Whaler jumped and started trying to move the dogs. All of them sighed, grumbled and hopped off of the bed except for one.

Daud sighed. “Leave it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Elias ushered the dogs out, glancing frequently over his shoulder.

Daud glared at the dog. The dog looked up at him. It whined.

“Dammit,” Daud muttered. He climbed into bed, curling up to not disturb the hound. “Eyes like floodlights of woe. Void.”

The dog rested its chin on his knee. Daud tried not to feel pleased.

  
  
  


_ Five Plague rat swarms! _

“Fucking Void!”

“Get the chokedust!”

“I thought you boarded up those holes!”

“I did! They must have chewed through!”

Daud dropped three chokedust grenades through the hole in the floor, killing the rats and interrupting the argument.

Both Whalers looked up.

“Sorry, Master Daud.”

“Sorry.”

Daud shook his head. These idiots were like a second family, but sometimes he wanted to toss them all into the Wrenhaven and let the hagfish sort them out.

  
  
  


_ Six crows a-calling _

“So let me get this straight,” Daud said, eyeing the birds that had taken residence in the common room’s rafters. “You thought you could train them?”

The Whaler nodded. “I read it in a book. You can teach them words and they’re really very smart.”

Daud eyed the bird that had just shit on Anastasia’s back. “I see.”

“We just need to gain their trust,” the Whaler said earnestly. “Just earn their trust. Just like with the wolfhounds!”

Daud nodded. “I see. Well then, you’re in charge. I expect to see results by the end of the month.”

The Whaler saluted. “You can rely on me, Master!”

One of the crows swooped down and screeched, “Fuck you!”

  
  
  


_ Seven grenades gifted _

Daud stared at his desk.

“Who in the Void keeps wrapping these?!”

  
  
  


_ Eight outfits knitted _

When the eighth knitted hat appeared, Daud had enough. He went to the door and flung it open. Two passing Whalers froze guiltily.

“Take this,” he snapped, handing the hat to one.

“Woah! Uh, sir?”

Daud scowled. “Tell the rest,” he growled. “Enough is enough.”

He slammed the door again with a rattle.

Behind the door, he could hear a whispered conversation.

“Did you keep the tension right?”

“Of course I did! I knitted a gauge just like Lonnie said!”

“Maybe it was the colour?”

Daud rolled his eyes, gathering scarves, hats and mittens, planning to toss the rest out into the common room for all takers.

“Outsider’s eyes, that was a whole three days of knitting.”

Daud paused, hearing the dejected tone. He looked down at the scarf in his hands. It  _ was _ soft. And Rudshore was icy in the winter. With a furtive glance around, he wrapped it around his neck.

Well, maybe a few gifts were all right.

  
  
  


_ Nine Whalers singing _

Daud threw open the window and glared down. The four idiots stopped their singing and beamed up at him.

Daud pulled back and went to get something. A few quick transversals, and he had what he needed. He returned to the window to check if they’d realized their error.

“Hello, Master Daud!”

Daud nodded politely, and then emptied the bucket of riverwater over their heads.

“Next time, don’t hang around after you’ve been discovered,” he said. “Krust duty. One shift each.”

There was a much less enthusiastic chorus of “Yes, Master Daud”. Daud smirked and closed his window. Gifts he could understand, but the carolling was just obnoxious.

He hummed the tune under his breath as he went back to work.

  
  
  


_ Ten Whalers rescued _

Daud had sworn off killing. He had. It took time and long effort to curb those reflexes. And now, after all that effort, the  _ fucking _ Abbey was trying to take his men. Well. They do say old habits die hard.

They were torturing his Whalers. They were  _ playing those fucking music boxes _ at his Whalers. Daud spared them no mercy, slicing throats and pulling his men to safety with Tether.

His thoughts were full of blood and fear for his men, his family.

He had to save them.

  
  
  


_ Eleven shots of whiskey _

Daud raised the last shot to the dark river. Arranged on either side of him were the remaining Whalers.He slowly tipped the glass and let the whiskey drain into the Wrenhaven as the last body was set alight.

“To Peter,” he said, his voice hoarser from the smoke and whiskey. “May your afterlife be kind and free.”

There was an answering murmur from the assorted Whalers. Daud bowed his head, counting his losses, his failures.

He paused at the hand on his shoulder.

“The rest of the men are holding a wake, a less formal one,” Thomas said, gently. “Come with us. It’s better than being alone.” Thomas was always a bit too observant.

The wake was loud and rambunctious, as anything done by his men. Daud eventually wandered over to an open window, looking down at the flooded banks of the Wrenhaven below. He slowly poured out one last shot of whiskey.

“To Bille,” he whispered. To his bright, burning girl.

  
  
  
  


_ Twelve casks of red wine _

Daud eyed the barrels. “And then they age?” he asked.

“Yes,” Thomas said, overseeing the casks placement. “Like you.”

Daud flicked his ear. “There may not be Krusts here to make you scrape, but I can still have you spreading manure.”

“Ah, so then  _ you’d _ prefer to do all the sales, then?” Thomas asked with a grin.

Daud scowled. There was a reason he wasn’t the face of their terrible vineyard. Apparently, he wasn’t personable enough. Daud was just happy he didn’t have to deal with the pompous assholes who cared about  _ vintages _ and  _ years _ and  _ notes _ .

“I should have left you all behind in Dunwall,” he grumbled.

Thomas snorted and bumped his shoulder. “You’d be lost without us.”

Daud turned away, hiding his unwilling smile.

Yeah, he would be.


End file.
